Wednesday, December 16, 2009
I was born with a thorn in my side,
Tried to mask it with a smile,
But even a smile could hide, the pain inside,
I felt like a part of me had died,
Somebody lied,
They told me that this is the land of opportunity,
Well why they try to influence me,
With things that promise to ruin me,
Demons consistently chasing and pursuing me,
I’m steady fighting them off,
But they keep coming like moths, to a flame,
But by faith I’m sustained,
And they starve,
Because no longer they can feed off my pain,

Thank you Christ the King.
I wonder will she ever 4give me,
Because her heart is as cold as stone,
So I left an apology at the door of her soul,
And found out her soul was gone.

I must admit I was wrong,
2 be gone;
When she needed me the most,
She just wanted 2 be a number in my life line,
But all I wanted was 2 be ghost,
Let no one close,
And eventually fade away 2 the serenity of nowhere,
The care,
That I once manifest spoiled in the belly of my heart,
Due 2 a bite that bleed venom from a sexy snake,
But no matter what it takes,
I vow 2 save her from the artic chill in her chest,
My thoughts weave through my mind and lay empty nests,
Just 2 wonder…

… will she ever 4give me,
Because her heart is as cold as stone,
I left an apology at the door of her soul,
And found out her soul was gone.

I must admit I was soaking in the sea of my own emotions,
And I didn’t realize that she was drowning in it,
Struggling 2 stay afloat…
Longing 2 be a passenger on the boat…
that lead to the bays of my interpersonal circle,
She was dying
She was dying 2 be me friend,
And I left her 2 fend for dear life
Because my life was in a tropical depression,
A state of emergency,
But now with an urgency,
I beg for her forgiveness,
I cry out for her understanding,
Demanding nothing,
But asking for the opportunity 2 heal open wounds,
And yet I wonder…

…will she ever 4give me,
Because her heart is as cold as stone,
I left an apology at the door of her soul,
And found out her soul was gone.
Shaunte' was only 13 when her innocence was taken,
By her step father who didn't bring home the bacon,
Mama tries to block it out,
Convinced her daughter is faking,
But is hunted by echoes of her child's cry,
Flabbergasted by the fact that her baby girl,
So desperately wants to die,
Mama's so afraid of loneliness,
that she constantly tells herself, her daugther's agony is a lie.

So who's going to stop the pain?
When did her life become stained,
Like a picture in a broken frame,
She dares to look in the mirror because of the shame,
Feeling that she's to blame,
Because no one would believe her,
She even stepped inside the church,
So desperately wanting someone to receive her,
But she was rejected and frowned upon as if you was a devilish diva,
Looking for promincuous love,
When all the time she was looking for a huge.

So she sits in the back crying the tears the leak the remaining of her soul,
Her heart so cold, so cold
This is the most tragic story ever told,
And it's sad that it's about a 13 year old,
Our 13 year old,
Our seed,
Our dream that has been defered,
Our hope,
Our product,
Our rose that grew from the concrete,
Our shining light,
Our love,
Our child whose life breathes the breathe of today,
So that tomorrow can live,
So live Shaunte' live.

This is dedicate to every female that has been sexually abused. We love you. We care about you. And we need you to survive.
Visited post your poetry and read poetry.
She is worth more than the dimensions of her frame,
Her soul is the essence of her domain.
She obtains confidence from her husband…
-who knows that she’ll never bring him to shame.

She is grateful for the rising sun,
And wash away her burdens in the drenching rain

She gives him nothing less but the best of her,
Her entirety;
…while the world sees a silhouette of her,
And admires thee.

She is gentle as a dove,
but is wise as a serpent.
She is calm as the sea,
And glow with innocence as a virgin.

She is slow to speak yet quick to listen,
Amongst the meek,
She’s truly a vision,
A child of God,
A wife of submission,
A woman of love,
And a queen of precision.

She is the mother of the future…
And the bride of destiny,
With her one can never fail.
Because she is a queen who wears her crown well.
Hello everyone I'm Jonathan Anu. I made this blog so that I can express to everyone the kreative thoughts that lurks in my head. Some say I'm weird but I rather refer to myself as a kreative genius who is before his time. I see what the normal person miss and purposely miss what the normal see as entertainment. Want you join me in this journey...